Childhood Memory Poems - Poems about Childhood Memory

ROSE-COLORED GLASSES “When you think about a show that you used to watch as a kid or as a teenager, you look at it through sort of rose-colored glasses…”Jordana Brewster ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In memory’s soft glow, the TV screen flickers alive, time stretches like taffy, the theme song lingers, a melody transporting me through the portal of childhood. The laughter of a...

Continue reading...

porch swing raining no scares free air small girl unfurl back, forth ghosts storm lightning blending lost flash backlash time meant ringlets rocking, rocking...

Continue reading...

Boyhood was a one-night stand, So brief and unforgettable, Full of dreams, Sweet —like a rooftop party, Wild and loud, When the world several feet below, Full of envy, shouted at us, “Come down quickly! Quick!” Boyhood charmed me and Did not harm me It was a different time, A different boy-game All was different Including the falsehood of the time Fibs were crammed with the essence of joy. Mawkish, they...

Continue reading...

rewiring of rainbows across memories ~ child's play Submitted on July 24, 2025 for contest ILLUSKU : ILLUSTRATED HAIKU CHALLENGE sponsored by JCB BRUL (using my own painting)...

Continue reading...

I loved my childhood summers In the mountains, where we stayed In a small, one-bedroom bungalow Where memories were made. We didn’t mind the lack of space; Outside were fields of grass With lots of friends to hang with - Oh, how quickly time did pass! In day camp we had arts and crafts; We swam and ran around And played on teams in...

Continue reading...

‘Live in the moment’ they say but it's hard on a winter's afternoon, inside, warm in a comfortable chair when the mind drifts, wanders off to find a park somewhere at the end of a childhood street. Dragonflies patrolling the hot, pine scented air and sunk in the shade, an abandoned stable thick in spider webs and behind a half door, a long,...

Continue reading...

Childhood memories come back on nostalgic track. With naivety I’m happy, find the child in me. ...

Continue reading...

I used to ride the train from school to home and back, every other weekend, in an old Pullman car built in the nineteen-thirties. It smelled like my grandma’s house— a little musty, like time had curled up and fallen asleep in the cushions. Too warm, always, but the clickety-clack over tie bars and rail frogs lulled me to sleep, rocking me gently as if the...

Continue reading...

Behold the shout of “SEA!” where ends the land down Manzanilla way on windward shore - on coconut road, on ribbons of sand and follow a trail of palms to its door. Upon wet beachcomber footprint I stood, coco lillies and beach flowers I’ve smelled, and miles of castaway island driftwood oft my mother’s...

Continue reading...

Ah, the fragrant fumes of paint drying on a picket fence followed by the grease-stained smell of turpentine on the brush Though doubtless matched by the aroma of oil spills gracing ...

Continue reading...

Drinking from clear, gurgling streams, catching frogs, unfolding dreams, without iPhones, watches or clocks, sitting high on granite rocks - my memory is unwinding a young boy exploring and finding pumice and obsidian flakes in the mountains over Mammoth Lakes....

Continue reading...

I shudder while peering at sepia photographs, showing visits to my maiden Aunt Hilda’s house. Even though I was very young it was clear she didn’t tolerate children. I was to be ‘Seen and not heard.’ Pa said I wasn’t to utter a word. I loathed being pushed and forced to kiss her. Aunt's wrinkled leathery skin looked like she’d been pickled in...

Continue reading...

as I walk streets of my childhood For the one last time the picture show of the past plays inside my mind as I reminisce about the time when I wore a younger man's clothes It`s so easy to grieve for what once was once while walking along the streets of memory past ...

Continue reading...

I write this to you, the child in me that hasn’t grown up yet. You may remember, the yonder blue hills from the hazy horizon cascaded gently down the emerald gradient of the rhythmic undulations of alluring landscape, that carved the contours of the charming hamlet where your endearing home was once cradled, nurturing you in the...

Continue reading...

when I was a kid molasses sweets or "bullseyes" were a tasty treat... you'd get two for a penny and if you had a quarter...! a short time ago I had my first one in years... just one simple taste and my childhood rushed to mind... ah, the sweetest memory...

Continue reading...